“Far Over the Misty Mountains Cold” 

Far over the Misty Mountains cold, 
To dungeons deep and caverns old, 
The dwarves of yore made mighty spells, 
While hammers fell like ringing bells,

 We must away, ere break of day, 
To seek our pale enchanted gold. 
In places deep, where dark things sleep, 
In hollow halls beneath the fells. 

For ancient king and elvish lord 
There many a gleaming golden hoard 
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught, 
To hide in gems on hilt of sword. 

On silver necklaces they [bad word] 
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung 
The dragon-fire, on twisted wire 
They meshed the light of moon and sun. 

Far over the Misty Mountains cold, 
To dungeons deep and caverns old, 
We must away, ere break of day, 
To claim our long-forgotten gold. 

Goblets they carved there for themselves, 
And harps of gold, where no man delves 
There lay they long, and many a song 
Was sung unheard by men or elves. 

The pines were roaring on the heights, 
The wind was moaning in the night, 
The fire was red, it flaming spread, 
The trees like torches blazed with light. 

The bells were ringing in the dale, 
And men looked up with faces pale. 
The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire, 
Laid low their towers and houses frail. 

The mountain smoked beneath the moon. 
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom. 
They fled the hall to dying fall 
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon. 

Far over the Misty Mountains grim, 
To dungeons deep and caverns dim, 
We must away, ere break of day, 
To win our harps and gold from him! 

The wind was on the withered heath, 
But in the forest stirred no leaf: 
There shadows lay be night or day, 
And dark things silent crept beneath. 

The wind came down from mountains cold, 
And like a tide it roared and rolled. 
The branches groaned, the forest moaned, 
And leaves were laid upon the mould. 

The wind went on from West to East; 
All movement in the forest ceased. 
But shrill and harsh across the marsh, 
Its whistling voices were released. 

The grasses hissed, their tassels bent, 
The reeds were rattling--on it went. 
O'er shaken pool under heavens cool, 
Where racing clouds were torn and rent. 

It passed the Lonely Mountain bare, 
And swept above the dragon's lair: 
There black and dark lay boulders stark, 
And flying smoke was in the air. 

It left the world and took its flight 
Over the wide seas of the night. 
The moon set sale upon the gale, 
And stars were fanned to leaping light. 

Under the Mountain dark and tall, 
The King [bad word] unto his hall! 
His foe is dead, the Worm of Dread, 
And ever so his foes shall fall! 

The sword is sharp, the spear is long, 
The arrow swift, the Gate is strong. 
The heart is bold that looks on gold; 
The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong. 

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells, 
While hammers fell like ringing bells 
In places deep, where dark things sleep, 
In hollow halls beneath the fells. 

On silver necklaces they [bad word] 
The light of stars, on crowns they hung 
The dragon-fire, from twisted wire 
The melody of harps they [bad word]  

The mountain throne once more is freed! 
O! Wandering folk, the summons heed! [bad word] haste [bad word] haste! Across the waste! 
The king of freind and kin has need. 

Now call we over the mountains cold,  [bad word] back unto the caverns old!' 
Here at the gates the king awaits, 
His hands are rich with gems and gold. 

The king [bad word] unto his hall 
Under the Mountain dark and tall. 
The Worm of Dread is slain and dead, 
And ever so our foes shall fall! 

Farewell we call to hearth and hall! 
Though wind may blow and rain may fall, 
We must away, ere break of day 
Far over the wood and mountain t